Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 46183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 231(@200wpm)___ 185(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 231(@200wpm)___ 185(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
This is me.
I’m trying to make up for last Friday.
After how they all came to apologize and bring me cupcakes, I’m doing this to make up for the lying.
It might be too much for some girls – teenagers lie, right? – and I get that.
But then those girls don’t have awesome brothers like mine. They don’t share a unique bond with their siblings like I do.
I shake my head. “It’s me. I lied to them.”
He hums thoughtfully. “And found yourself in the clutches of a villain.”
My heart skips a beat when he says it, the term I called him that night.
And it’s a perfect term too.
He does look like a villain. A gorgeous villain.
With beautiful wolf eyes and marble skin. A jaw so sharp and cheekbones so high. Broad shoulders and a massive chest that tapers into a slim waist.
Every part of his body looms large and threatening.
Even that bruise adds to his danger.
“You should go,” I tell him, breathless.
“But here you are, aren’t you? In my clutches again,” he murmurs, completely ignoring my statement.
I am.
I have no escape either. I glance at the door behind him, which believe it or not is difficult because he’s covering it all up with his towering body.
“Why’s the door locked?” I ask him.
“You’ve been running from me,” he says.
“I’m not,” I lie, wondering how he even knows when he’s been too busy with his awesome life.
“And I’m not letting you run from me again.”
His words hang in the air menacingly and I ask, “Letting me?”
“Yeah.”
I frown at him. “Isn’t that… criminal?”
“Is it?”
I exhale sharply. “Yes, it is. You can’t lock a girl in a closet against her will. Just because you don’t want her to run.”
Something like amusement passes over his features. “Right. I think I heard about something like that.”
“You –”
“But also, I don’t think I’m holding her against her will. Am I?”
I swallow and grab hold of the edge of the shelf tightly. “Why don’t I scream and you can find out if it’s against my will or not?”
It only makes him smirk. “Why don’t you? Let’s see if it reaches your brother and he comes to save you.” He flexes his fist by his side. “I’d love to give him a matching bruise for last Friday.”
My heart jumps. “You wouldn’t.”
“Wouldn’t I?”
“No. Because… Because you apologized to him that night,” I remind him, trying to tamp down shivers at the thought of him keeping that promise to me. “You kept your promise.”
“And that means what?”
“It means that maybe you’re not as bad as they say you are.”
“Yeah, no. I’m exactly as bad as they say I am.” He spreads his hands as if in a magnanimous gesture. “I’d be happy to show you if you like. All you have to do is scream.”
I study him for a long, careful moment before saying, “How did you even know that I was here?”
“I saw you dancing through the window,” he says.
“You did?” I ask, surprised.
“Uh-huh.” His eyes grow heated, and all my ire seems to be on the verge of melting. “You were spinning. So fast. And I stopped.”
“Why?”
He licks his lips and I’m reminded of how excited he looked that night when I danced for him.
When he called me a fairy.
God.
God.
He called me that, didn’t he?
I’ve been trying not to think about it. Not to think about his words, the words no one has ever said to me before.
Fairy.
“Because apparently when you spin, I stop. When you dance, I have to watch,” he says in a low, slightly rough voice.
And suddenly I feel the same way. As I did that night.
All hot and restless. My limbs buzzing.
“I sucked,” I say.
He frowns. “What?”
I’m not sure if I should tell him this. But I’m going to.
I don’t know why but I have to tell him the truth.
So swallowing, I whisper, “My routine. I can’t do it. I-I mean, I can. But I’m screwing it all up.”
His frown only grows. “Someone tell you that?”
I shake my head. “No. Everyone has been super kind so far. But I-I’m supposed to hold this pose, a developpé écarté devant, at the end for like eight counts before coming down on my knees, but I could only do it for like four or something. And even then, my calves were shaking, and do you even know how big of a crime that is? Not being able to hold straight and still. A very big crime. Huge.”
It is.
And if they don’t kick me out then I’ll just quit myself because this is a disgrace.
For some reason, his lips twitch. “I don’t think anyone would notice how long you stood on your toes.”
I narrow my eyes at him, at his amusement. “Why not?”
“Because they’ll be too distracted at the sight of you down on your knees.” He tips his chin at me. “Especially in that.”